Noise Destroys
by Pyro3
Summary: Tom, the founder of the noise tanks, tells his story. I fixed Ch.1. I think everyone'll know why he wanted suicide and, I cut da sex out. I changed Data's name, too, Teknopathetic.


I don't own JSR/JGR copyrights…  
  
(A/N: The beginning of this chapter (The first 2 paragraphs of the fic) is based on my real life so, please don't laugh.)  
  
(A/N: I decided to revamp this chapter a lil', going on wise Tei Sama's words.)  
  
My name is…well, it was Tom, but the only name I'm known by now is Wire. Some of you may know me but, for those of you who don't, read on. This is my life story. It all started seven long years ago…  
  
Seven years ago, Benten-cho  
  
I was your typical child genius, hacking at age six because it's a lot more enjoyable to rip apart a program or a firewall then it is to build one (and a lot easier, too) but, also as most, I had next to no friends at any one point. That on top of the fact that every kid I knew but a select few made fun of me or hit me on a regular basis, I couldn't take the stress by the time I reached age ten. That was when my breaking point occurred. My parents neglected me unintentionally because they were never around and, I really didn't care to live anymore. Maybe, after I was gone, they'd look back and say, "Hey. I wish we had paid more attention to Tom. Then, maybe, he wouldn't have killed himself."  
  
My life needed to end. There was too much abuse, to many insults, too many kids being mean to me regularly. I kept thinking 'If I could just end my life, I'd leave this whole mess behind. I'd just escape all the hellish torture I go through every day.'  
  
One day, when I got home, after undergoing another messed up day of my life, I went straight to my parent's room. Both my parents were gone, my dad a cop and my mom a secretary.  
  
This time nothing would stop me; no one would talk me out of it. I opened the drawer on my dad's nightstand and brought out his 8mm handgun. I slipped in the clip that was lying next to it in the drawer, pulled back the slid, heard the bullet slip into the chamber, and put the barrel point blank up to my left temple. I closed my eyes and started counting slowly from ten.  
  
"Ten"  
  
God, if you care for me, you'll stop me.  
  
"Nine"  
  
I'm really going to do it; I'm prepared for this to end!  
  
"Eight"  
  
If you don't stop me, I'll end up in one of the seven circles.  
  
"Seven"  
  
I'm not going to school ever again.  
  
"Six"  
  
Goodbye!  
  
"Five"  
  
1 I hope this doesn't hurt much…  
  
"Four"  
  
2 This is it, I guess…  
  
"Three"  
  
3 I hope it isn't a dud  
  
"Two"  
  
4 I love you, mom…  
  
"One"  
  
My eyes locked close. I started to squeeze the trigger back. There wasn't anything to stop me this time, just a loud gunshot marking my death. I was prepared for it all. I heard the hammer being pulled back in the gun. Then I heard someone yell. "Don't! Don't do it, Tom! I love you!"  
  
My eyes shot open. There, in the doorway of my parent's bedroom, stood Rebecca, the only person to even care for me besides my parents. She had said the only thing that would have made me stop. That was the first time I had heard those three magical words come from someone who wasn't related to me. I tossed the gun aside. I stuttered for the first time in my life. "Y-y- you what?"  
  
"I love you, Tom James Onishima! I have loved you for a long while, I just wasn't sure if you felt the same way…"  
  
Then her eyes started tearing up, her soft, silky hair a mess. She was the one thing that could stop me; she was one of the only 2 kids beside me my age that went to high school. She had been the only girl I had ever cared for. She had always been the tough one, watching out for me. Now, she seemed so soft, so tender. She fell into my arms and buried her head in my chest.  
  
All I could do was stroke her head. I felt her soft tears seep through my shirt and run down my chest, which I made a note to keep in good shape. She cried for about five minutes, all the while I was telling her thing like "It's okay," and "It's going to be alright." She finally calmed down and looked up at me through her tears. I moved my head so that my lips were next to her right ear and whispered, "I love you too…"  
  
Then she kissed me, for the first time ever. I had thought of her and accused her, behind her back, secretly, of being "prude" during our whole relationship. Now I realized that it was actually that she just didn't think I cared enough, which in the end makes me the prude one in a fashion.  
  
We kissed a good, long time, our lips begging for more. I wanted to give into the begging but, for two reasons, I didn't: 1) I wasn't quiet sure if I should and 2) I wasn't quiet sure if I could but, we kissed on and on…  
  
Three Hours Later  
  
Rebecca had left about twenty minutes ago. My mom walked in the front door. She was humming lightly to herself. I had made sure to put away the gun before either of my parents got home. I suddenly had an urge to live: love.  
  
I walked over to my laptop that sat on my desk and turned it on. There was a light buzzing noise, and then the screen came on, casting a pale, blue light on my face. I logged in, entering my password and then I turned on the only other thing that kept me sane and not suicidal: raver music. I shut my door, and plugged twin, 4-foot speakers into my laptop. My parents had made my room soundproof, so I could blare the music as loud as I wanted, which was pretty loud.  
  
Then I got on the wireless Internet my PC was hooked up to and opened up a hacking program (A/N: An oxymoron!). Then I hacked into the school's files, passing through the measly firewall in under three seconds. I check up on my grades: all A's. So were Rebecca's. I was happy, for the first time that week.  
  
4.1 Three Months Later  
  
Rebecca had moved away, she left two weeks ago. I was in despair. That's when I built my first blades. I was depressed and hiding in my closet, with the door closed, when I hit my door out of anger and depression and a skate fell down beside me. I looked at it and remembered I had gotten them the previous Christmas, yet I hadn't put them on once.  
  
Then I remembered the Rudies, kids on battery-powered blades that tagged. Most were runaways, usually running away from hate, abuse, rape, or depression, or a mixture of two or more. It fit my description perfectly…  
  
The next day after school I stopped by a hardware store and purchased two netrium batteries, electromagnet rods, eight small screws, and about eight feet of double-strand wire. When I got home, I drug all that and my blades down to the garage and used my dad's tools to make me some skates. Then next day my hair was died blue, I got some blue glasses, blue camo cargo pants, a blue backpack, a black, hooded vest, some spray paint, and some hair gel. On the way home, I decided to give my blades a test run. When I got home, I put on the pants, vest (without a shirt underneath but, zipped all the way up), spiked my hair, and put on the blue glasses.  
  
I pulled on my navy blue skates and pulled the laces tight, activating the batteries. I walked into the kitchen where my mom was cooking and she would've had a heart attack if she saw me with blades on but that was the only conventional way out of my house besides the front door. I didn't dare go out that was for fear that my dad should show up. Quietly, I snuck by my mom.  
  
I walked out the back door, looped around through the alley, and looked up the street that was uphill all the way. I let my blades carry me up, while I skated along merrily. I got to the end of the street and turned around, facing downhill. I let myself roll, riding my brake the whole way. I was about to pass a side street when a tow truck pulled in front of me and I went up the back and over the truck like a ramp. By a stretch of luck, a back flip I landed, scared as hell. Then I got onto the sidewalk and skated home…. 


End file.
